Payback
by kepulver
Summary: G1 Transformers  What happened to the Combaticons after Revenge of Bruticus


**Author's Note: **The Transformers universe as depicted in my fics is a cherry-picked amalgamation of the G1 cartoon and comic (US and UK), Beast Wars/Machines, my own preferences as a fan, my Transformers MUSHing experience, conversations between me and my roommate (who helped beta read this fic in the early stages) and bits and pieces of things that I think work well.

I originally thought this piece would be a sequel to "Realization," a fic that I originally wrote back in 1999 that talked about what happened to Swindle after _B.O.T. _ I lied. The Combaticons in this fic are different from the Combaticons of "Realization" in minor but significant ways that make it impossible for me to say these two fics are in the same universe.

I've loved the Combaticons for a long time. They're such a fun bunch of guys and I've always been disappointed that we didn't get more of their back story -- specifically, what the heck did they do that got them cored? I mean, it must have been pretty bad, considering that Megatron lets Starscream run around and he tries to take over the Empire on an almost daily basis. This story is an attempt to answer that question.

**X X X**

**Payback**

It was almost funny, in a serial port modem on a mainframe sort of way: after six million years of non-existence, they'd been brought back, given new forms and a second chance at righting past wrongs -- only to be locked up again for the same damn thing that had gotten them in trouble in the first place.

It was almost enough to make Onslaught think Primus had it in for him.

"I'm tellin' you, we shoulda shot that cowardly Starscream the second we came back online!" Brawl yelled, his voice echoing off their cell walls.

"Yeah!" Vortex said. "Shot him and stripped him for parts! Or better yet, just stripped him for parts!" His optics lit up in sadistic glee as he mimed pulling on something. "Yank! Bye bye wings! I bet he's got the most wonderful scream!"

"Uh-huh. And who, pray tell, would have gotten us our energy absorbers?" Swindle said as he stalked around the cell's perimeter, still hunting doggedly for any means of escape. He paused, looking back at the others and scowled. "As much fun as killing that armor-polishing glitch would have been, he ain't worth starving to death for."

"Why Swindle, surely you could have 'found'" the parts we needed," said Blast Off. "That _is_ the sort of petty thievery you were designed for, wasn't it?"

"It ain't that easy to scrounge something when I don't know what it looks like," Swindle snapped back. "I never even _heard_ of energy absorbers before we woke up on that blasted island! I think Starscream was lying to try and buy himself some time."

"Really, Swindle? We never would have guessed that!" sneered Blast Off. "Well, I suppose it takes one to know one, doesn't it?"

"Shut up, Blast Off!" Swindle advanced on Blast Off, fists clenched, feet ringing on the floor as he stalked toward the much larger mech.

Blast Off uncrossed his arms, looking down on Swindle. "Make me, you runty little glitch."

Swindle growled, preparing to charge. "Fight! FIGHT!" Vortex yelled, raising his arms and hopping up and down in a cheer.

"All of you shut up!" Brawl's roar only set the four of them to arguing, each one raising his voice to the very limits of his amplifiers as they took their frustrations out on the closest target.

"Quiet." Onlsaught didn't bother trying to out shout his brothers. It would only have encouraged more arguing, this time with himself as the focal point. Instead, he sent the message out over their internal radios. It was one simple word, but it carried behind it the full weight of his years of command as well as the authority they were programmed to recognize.

The argument stopped as if as switch had been thrown. The others looked to him expectantly, hopeful that he had some sort of plan to get them out of this mess. Even Blast Off lacked some of his usual arrogant scorn. Onslaught stifled a chuckle. _Unnerving,_ he thought. _But I could get to used to this._

"We need to remain calm," Onslaught said aloud. "We were unconscious when we were brought here. The fact that we're still functional means either Megatron wants us awake and aware when he dismantles us this time or…" Onslaught paused for effect.

"He has other plans for us," Blast Off said. "Yes, Onslaught, I believe we've all figured that out for ourselves."

_Ah, well, it was nice while it lasted._ Onslaught nodded, watching as Swindle, Vortex and Brawl nodded and snorted derisively amongst themselves.

"Even I figured that one out, Onslaught," said Brawl, adding insult to insult.

"So, what do we do?" Vortex asked. "Fight back?"

"We got no weapons," Brawl said, speaking in what for him was almost a whisper.

Vortex reached back, patting mournfully at the place where his rotors had been mounted. "Not even blades."

"Swindle?" Onslaught looked over to him. _If anyone has a hold out…_

"Sorry Ons," Swindle's optics brightened then dimmed in embarrassment. "They got everything. And what they couldn't get, I can't access thanks to the mode-lock."

"Nice to know Megatron still considers us a threat." Onslaught drew himself up to his full height, optics radiating pride. "I'd hate to think he's forgotten how close we came to making him a footnote in Cybertronian history."

That brought a chuckle from all of them, except for Brawl who punched the wall nearest him, then grunted in satisfaction at the size of the dent he'd caused.

"Still," Onslaught said, hoping to build on the temporary upswing in morale. "We have our fists, we have our training and I suspect our greatest asset lies within us."

"Ons, if this is some kinda Decepticon Academy training slag about our better natures, forget it," Swindle said. "You know Wrench never designed us to have those."

"No, Swindle. I refer to the newest member of the team: Bruticus."

Swindle snorted, Blast Off rolled his optics, Brawl scowled and Vortex snickered. "The Big Guy? What use is he if we can't transform?" Vortex said. "As far as that goes, what use is he to us if we _could_? He's clumsy, he turns us into one _big_ target and he's dumber than… Okay, so he's smarter than Brawl but that's not saying much!"

"Keep it up Vortex an' we'll see how smart you are when I'm scrapin' you off my feet!" Brawl snapped.

"Ignore him, Brawl," Swindle said soothingly. "Tex is just box-crazy, you know that."

Vortex giggled. "I love you too, Stumpy."

"Go play stab yourself with a knife, Twitchy," Swindle said.

"That's cold!" Vortex pouted, not entirely playing. "You _know_ I don't have a knife!"

"Children, _please_," Blast Off's tone was pained, as if his sarcasm sequencer was being stretched to the very limits of its tolerances. "Listen to Onslaught. You know what he's like when he has an idea in his head, but still --- listen anyway."

"Thank you, Blast Off." Onslaught motioned the others in, lowering his voice as much as he dared. That they were being listened to was a certainty.

"Megatron hasn't destroyed us because doing so would mean destroying Bruticus," Onslaught said. "Clearly he doesn't want to do that, since if he has Bruticus, he will have yet another super-warrior to use against the Autobots."

"Yeah, but who says he doesn't already have an army of 'em?" Swindle asked. "We saw two teams, for all we know he could have loads more."

"Think: if Megatron has an army of combiner teams, why didn't he bring them after us sooner?" Onslaught said. "No, the number of teams is clearly limited and Megatron wants more. There is no other explanation worth thinking about at this point. We have to operate from the position that Megatron needs Bruticus and therefore he needs us."

"So what's to stop him from making us stay as Bruticus all the time?" Vortex asked.

"Resources," Blast Off said. "Bruticus may be powerful, but he's an energy drain."

"Plus we're a slag-hot team and Megatron knows it," Brawl said. "We've damn near taken his aft out three times now."

Onslaught nodded. "Of course, Megatron can't welcome us back with open arms after our…history together," he said as the others snickered. "So, I presume that we can expect some sort of a softening up before we're expected to swear our loyalty once more to Megatron."

"I suppose it'll be too much to expect energoodies and sweet-talking, huh?" Swindle asked.

"Are you kidding?" Vortex said. "We're gonna be lucky if we get kissed first."

Onslaught paused. "Of course, if we give in too easily, Megatron will suspect something. We were never the Empire's poster boys."

"Unless you count wanted posters!" Vortex said. "Swindle was on a few of those!"

"Shut _up,_ Vortex!" Swindle swatted the back of Vortex's head. "Grownups are talking!"

"So, I take it you're suggesting slightly more than token resistance when they come for us?" Blast Off said.

"Precisely, just enough of a fight to show that we're not surrendering easily," Onslaught said. "Swindle, seeing as this is your area of expertise, any suggestions?"

**X X X **

"Enough." Megatron muted the video feed from the Combaticons' cell. "Even in defeat, they continue to struggle." He turned toward Starscream, looking at him with undisguised contempt. "You chose well for your army, Starscream. If you had an astroliter of their tenacity, I might actually have to worry about you."

Megatron took a small measure of satisfaction from the affronted look that flickered across Starscream's face. The Seeker was lucky his ego wasn't a physical target or he'd have been destroyed vorn ago.

Starscream made a weak attempt at a chuckle. "Yes, Megatron," he said. "but then again, _they _arethe ones in the cell, whereas _I_ am free -- to serve you, of course." He looked over at the sound of footsteps, seeing Bombshell walk into the room carrying a small box with great care. "And at least I am useful enough that you don't feel the need to force my loyalty."

"Such as it is," Megatron said. "Really, Starscream, you're too cowardly to ever truly betray me." He pointed to the video screen, where the Combaticons were still in conference. "That you got as close as you did this time has more to do with _them_ than with you."

In truth, it wasn't that the Combaticons were more effective than Starscream, it was that they were differently effective. Starscream's attempts were more bluster and bravado, flashy attempts seemingly intended to show Megatron his true worth -- though Megatron was sure that if Starscream actually succeeded one day, he wouldn't be disappointed to find himself in charge.

The Combaticons, on the other hand, didn't bother with such things. If they saw a goal, they went after it. No theatrics, no posturing, no warnings that an attack was imminent until they were roaring down on you. Or trying to push the planet you were on into the sun.

On the whole, Megatron would rather deal with Starscream.

**X X X **

Starscream scowled as Bombshell snickered openly at Megatron's remark, but he kept his own silence. _Let Megatron think he's cowed me; one day I _will _rule the Decepticons, if I have to do it over his dead body!_

"Bombshell, are the cerebro-shells ready?" Megatron asked.

"Of course." Bombshell snorted. "The hardest part was finding circuitry compatible with their personality components. Not only are their components made from non-standard parts kit bashed together, but their base algorithms are some of the densest, hand-hacked code I've ever had to slog through." He paused, preening a bit. "But, I did it," he said, in an and-it's-gonna-cost-you tone.

"Good," Megatron said. "Deliver them to Scrapper. Once he has them, I will send the signal for the Stunticons to begin pacifying the Combaticons."

"Fine," said Bombshell, turning to leave. "Just don't forget the energon cubes you owe me for this, Megatron. I'm not a sucker like Venom."

"Yes, yes," Megatron waved a dismissive hand in Bombshell's direction. Starscream noted that it was also his cannon arm, a fact that didn't seem lost on Bombshell either. "Soundwave has arranged your payment, now _go."_

_**X X X**_

Bombshell walked into the medical bay, carrying his box with great care. As he entered, he surveyed the room. Five fully prepared medical tables dominated the middle of the room. Each was carefully placed to allow medics to move easily between patients. Five identical instrument trays, one at each table, eliminated wasted motion and the risk of misplacing a needed tool during a switch. Along one wall, five part bins -- each one carefully labeled with the name of one of the Combaticons -- waited.

All in all, it was the sort of repair bay headed by someone who knew whether or not to hyphenate "anal-retentive."

"Stay where I can see you, Insecticon." Hook's voice was devoid of emotion, but the warning came across loud and clear. He could just as easily have been talking to a wayward lab specimen as a fellow Decepticon -- then again, rumor had it that for Hook, the line between lab specimen and fellow Decepticon was non-existent.

"Fine," said Bombshell with a shrug. "I'm only bringing in the decoy cerebro-shells Megatron ordered me to build."

"Crude," Hook said, picking up one of the shells and studying it closely. "Rudimentary, at best. Bonecrusher could have build better with his fingers welded together."

"Of course they're crude," Bombshell said. "We have to give them something to find, otherwise they'll tear themselves apart looking for anything suspicious. Which, as you should know, Hook, will include all those lovely new parts you're going to be building into them. This will soothe their paranoia while the _real_ cerebro-shells do their work."

Hook set the shell back into the box. "Place one at each table, in the designated space," he said, his tone still emotionless, but turning colder. "Then get out of _my_ medical lab and never presume to lecture me here again, bug."

**X X X**

"This is gonna be _great!_" Wildrider chortled, revving his engine in excitement. "Smash Combaticons! Smash 'em! Smash 'em!"

"Damn straight," Drag Strip said, punching the cell door in front of him. "We're finally gonna get to show those old wrecks who the _real_ fighters are around here!"

"I'm sure they'll be suitably impressed," Dead End said from where he slouched artlessly against the nearest wall, doing his level best to look like he wasn't carefully posed to show how much he didn't care about his surroundings.

"This is a bad idea," Breakdown moaned from where he huddled in a corner of the room, trying to stay behind the rest of the Stunticons. "A really, really, really _bad_ idea! They're gonna see us an' then they're gonna know who we are! We should get outta here!"

"That's the idea!" Motormaster roared, stomping over to tower over the shaking Breakdown. "I'm plannin' on leavin' my grill print on Onslaught's mask so he'll never forget me! And I expect you t'be in there with the rest of us Breakdown or so help me, Menasor's gonna need a peg leg!"

"But-but-but," Breakdown started to try and respond, but was cut off by Motormaster's hand latching onto one of his shoulder wheels. "When those doors open," Motormaster snarled. "We _will_ charge in there an' pound them into scrap an' you'll be leadin' the charge!"

"Yessir," Breakdown squeaked.

"We're not supposed to scrap them, Moto," Drag Strip said. "Megatron wants them softened up so he can bring 'em over to his side." He paused. "_Duh_."

Motormaster's reply was to backhand Drag Strip. "_I_ give the orders around here and _I_ say we scrap 'em."

"_YEAH_!" Wildrider transformed to robot mode, dancing excitedly in place. "Scrap 'em! Junk 'em! Yeah!"

**X X X**

Passing unseen in his small insect form, Bombshell flew into the detention center and landed on Motormaster's shoulder. It was the perfect vantage point from which to watch the Stunticons work themselves up into a berserker rage. Though, judging by the noise and confusion as Motormaster alternately bellowed orders and continued to batter the others into position, he could have been sitting in full robot mode on the gestalt team leader's head and still passed unnoticed.

**X X X **

Starscream fidgeted, taking advantage of the fact Megatron had his back to him. "Is there a reason I'm still here, Megatron?" he asked. "There _are _other things I could be doing… to better serve you, of course." _Like watching paint dry._

"You will wait here, Starscream," Megatron said. "Because I want you to see what happens to your former army, so that you will know what faint awaits you should you dare try something like this again."

"Megatron, this is absurd! You defeated me and the Combaticons, I understand this fact! I was there when you made me grovel -- in front of Autobots no less! -- for your mercy. You've humiliated me enough; I fail to see why I should be forced to watch this barbaric display!" Starscream crossed his arms over his chest, striking a dramatic and dignified pose.

"Things have _changed_, Starscream," Megatron said, turning toward him, his optics blazing like laser sights on a dark night. "I've tolerated your games over the millennia because you are, when you choose to be, useful to me. Your skills in battle are unmatched and your repeated attempts to overthrow me help to reinforce just how futile such attempts are. But this time, you have crossed the line. _You_ brought the Combaticons back, knowing how much trouble they caused, knowing what they were capable of. Knowing the risks of reviving unstable personality components. You dared risk the fate of _my_ Empire on your petty need for approval."

Megatron shifted position, taking a step forward -- and to his shame, Starscream couldn't stop himself from taking a step back. "If you were half the warrior you claim to be, you would challenge me openly -- _take_ my place instead of trying to connive you way into it." Megatron scowled at him, disgust writ plain across his face. "No, Starscream, you will stay and you will watch as I break the Combaticons and bend them to my will and you will be _grateful_ that I do not choose to do the same to you." A pause. "_This time_."

With that, Megatron spun on his heel and barked into his radio: "Stunticons, ATTACK!"

**X X X **

Inside their cell, Swindle hunkered against the door with his audial pressed against it. "Megatron just gave the order," he said, moving back toward the others. "They're comin'; sounds like he's got a whole battalion out there instead of just five guys."

"Good," Onslaught said. "Let them come. Get into position. Swindle, Brawl, flank me. Vortex, Blast Off, hang back and hammer at them when you can. We'll lose eventually, but we can make sure it's not going to be an easy victory for them. If nothing else, it may win us an advantage in the negotiations with Megatron."

The others grunted, not speaking as they fell into place and the doors opened.

**X X X**

Megatron reached over, turning the sound on as Onslaught gave his final orders to the Combaticons before the doors opened. At the words _If nothing else, it may win us an advantage in the negotiations with Megatron_, he began to laugh. Beside him, he saw Starscream take a step back, startled not by the laughter but by the delighted quality it held.

"There will be _no_ negotiations this time, Onslaught," Megatron said, not caring that the other mech couldn't hear him. "This time you are mine, body and soul whether you and your cohorts are willing or not!"

**X X X**

The Stunticons charged into the room, three of them howling like virus-crazed empties. True to his word, Motormaster had put Breakdown at the front of the charge. It was hard to say if he was charging forward because he wanted to pound the Combaticons or if he was trying to avoid being run down by his own side. Motormaster was close behind him, bellowing insults. Drag Strip and Wildrider had converted to vehicle mode and were charging full on toward the Combaticons who had so conveniently backed themselves into a corner.

Onslaught realized the folly of his plan the moment the door opened, but by then it was too late to formulate another plan. He had been expecting Seekers; they were disciplined fighters unused to hand to hand combat on the ground. To call these Stunticons undisciplined was an understatement. Their leader seemed unconcerned with tactics; only wanting to be the first at the fight. Two of the maniacs were charging directly at them in vehicle mode and were speeding up, _speeding up, _of all things! Madness!

"Do your best, brothers," Onslaught said, again speaking over internal radio. "If we die, we can make sure these glitches remember us when their joints ache."

**X X X**

Megatron scowled as the Combaticons stood their ground. They had to know they were already doomed, but once again they refused to beg for mercy. Despite lacking weapons, despite being half-starved, despite their primitive bodies kitbashed into a semblance of real life, they stood their ground and fought with a savage, desperate doggedness -- as though if they struggled hard enough they might actually succeed. It was a quality he would have almost admired in subordinates, but in these renegades it was infuriating.

Still, it was glorifying to watch the Stunticons, _his_ gestalt team, tear through Starscream's creations as if they were metallic foil. Drag Strip and Wildrider remained in vehicle mode, using their bodies first to crush Swindle between them and then to batter and harass Brawl. Dead End fired his air compressor at Vortex, blasting him backwards into a wall with the sort of irony Megatron could appreciate. Breakdown fired his compressor cannon at Blast Off and it was hard to say who was shaking more.

All of this pleased Megatron no end, but it was the duel between Motormaster and Onslaught that he watched with the most interest. The two warriors stood alone, the rest of the fight carrying on around them but they paid no attention to it. Onslaught clenched his fists, Motormaster drew his sword and the battle was joined.

**X X X**

Onslaught easily ducked under Motormaster's first sword swipe. _I've seen pit drones with better moves,_ he thought as he tried to circle behind the Stunticon leader. _Where'd Megatron get these guys? The half-time show at the Grand Arena? _

He lashed out with a foot, kicking Motormaster in the back. To his pleasure, it sent the bigger mech staggering forward, one arm pin wheeling as Motormaster tried to keep his feet. Unfortunately, Motormaster made a speedy recovery and turned on him with more grace than Onslaught would have given him credit for.

_This isn't right!_ Onslaught thought as he found himself on the defensive again. Motormaster roared and bellowed unintelligibly as he swung his sword back and forth in wide sweeping arcs. Onslaught found himself backpedaling, being herded into a corner of the room from which there would be no escape. Behind Motormaster, he could see glimpses of the rest of the Combaticons being savaged by the Stunticons.

_Does Megatron want to destroy us after all? _Onslaught felt despair begin to clutch at him. _Did I guess wrong? I can't be wrong, he has to still want us around! It's the only option that made sense! I _can't_ be wrong!_ Despair faded back, being overtaken by a juvenile rage at being having his plan thwarted. _Not again! _

Onslaught's mind screamed at him to do something, anything to stop the destruction of his team. Frustration, fear and pain drove him forward, giving him a kind of tunnel vision where the only thing he could see was the smirk on Motormaster's face. With a bellow of his own, Onslaught took two steps forward and attempted to tear the grin right off Motormaster's head.

**X X X**

Bombshell had once, many vorn ago, found himself caught up in a storm on a gas giant while searching for fuel resources. The hurricane force winds had tossed and buffeted him without mercy, leaving him completely disoriented for weeks afterwards.

Compared to being in a detention cell with a cornered and berserk Onslaught facing down against five violence-crazed Stunticons, that storm was as a gentle breeze in an Earth meadow.

Onslaught fought like a mech possessed, driving Motormaster back punch by punch as he screamed to the very limit of his vocalizer. In a rare show of loyalty, the rest of the Stunticons turned from pummeling the rest of the Combaticons to swarm over Onslaught, driving him to the ground by sheer force.

Bombshell found himself hard pressed to hit his targets. By his reckoning, he'd shot Onslaught twice and hit at least three Stunticons (though he was disinclined to complain about that since you never knew when having three-fifths of a gestalt team under his control might come in handy).

**X X X **

To an outsider, the fight took a matter of minutes. For the participants, and their lone bystander, the fight dragged on for what felt like hours. The noise was deafening -- shouted orders, the crunch of metal on metal, the screams of pain and laughter -- all combining into one indistinct roar.

And then, it was over. The Combaticons lay on the floor of their cell, bits of scrap metal and puddles of fuel and lubricant littering the ground. The Stunticons weren't in much better shape. Motormaster's face was torn and leaking lubricant, not that he seemed to care as he and Drag Strip continued putting the boot to Onslaught. Wildrider lay on his back, giggling weakly. Dead End was showing his displeasure over a series of deep gashes across his hood by ramming Blast Off repeatedly into a corner. Breakdown attempted to take advantage of the others' distraction to sneak out, only come yelping back as Bonecrusher and Long Haul entered the cell.

"Enough!" Megatron's voice echoed over the cell's loudspeakers. "Stunticons, stand down! STAND DOWN! Move away or you'll be providing parts for Scrapper's next art project!"

That caught their attention. Reluctantly, the Stunticons moved back from their opponents -- Drag Strip and Breakdown carrying Wildrider, still giggling weakly, out of the room while Bonecrusher and Long Haul loaded the wounded Combaticons onto transport gurneys.

**X X X**

Scrapper surveyed Onslaught's injuries and found them wanting. Oh, granted they were extensive; the Stunticons had certainly been enthusiastic about their work, but nothing they'd done was anything Scrapper and his crew hadn't seen a million times before.

The only _real_ challenge was going to be remaking the crude shells Starscream had crafted into viable gestalt-grade forms. And even that wouldn't be anything _special. _They'd be done in a matter of a quarter-orn at the latest.

_But, what Megatron wants, Megatron gets._ Scrapper thought. The proof of that lay before him.

He looked out over the repair bay, checking on the rest of his team. Hook and Scavenger had already begun preliminary repairs on Blast Off. The shuttle's injuries had been the most severe. His fragile armor plate had shattered in places thanks to Breakdown's concussion cannon, the vibrations driving splinters deep within him. It was fiddly work, retrieving the splinters and repairing the damage done to severed micro-circuitry which was why he'd paired the two mechs certain not to quit until everything was in working order. The main problem would be pulling them away from Blast Off so that the real repairs could continue.

Bonecrusher and Long Haul were monitoring the other three Combaticons' vital signs, if only by the loosest of definitions that extended 'monitoring' to include keeping half an optic on the screens while sipping energon and gossiping like a pair of domestic drones.

Behind them, Mixmaster stood on hand preparing extra armor plating and humming just loud enough to be annoying but not loud enough that Scrapper could justify yelling at him for it -- not yet at least.

So, all in all, it was par for the course. With a satisfied nod, one he was sure not to let the others see, Scrapper set to his work.

**X X X **

Onslaught's first emotion on waking up was an immense sense of relief that he was waking up at all. The second was a stab of fear that he was the only one who'd been revived.

Then, sounds came to him. The soft clank of metal on metal, the murmurings of medics working together and surrounding it all, the sounds of his brothers in pain. Brawl groaned, loud and grating as if trying to drown out his pain in sound. Swindle whimpered, pleading brokenly for relief he knew wouldn't come. Vortex giggled, the sound ratcheting up the hysteria scale until it finally broke into pathetic gulps and hiccups. Blast Off was, as usual, conspicuous by his absence. He alone of the four remained silent, his pride not allowing him to bend before his lessers.

_Be strong._ Onslaught thought. _Lead by your example, Onslaught. _

"Megatron?" Onslaught said. "Where is Megatron? I need to speak with him."

"He's not here," Scrapper said. "He will be seeing you again when you and the rest of your companions are fully repaired."

"What -- what is our fate?" Onslaught asked, knowing that Scrapper owed him no explanations, but hoping to get even a scrap of information.

"You're being repaired," Scrapper said, as if that explained it all. "Do you really think Megatron would waste the resources to bring you five miscreants back to full functioning if he had any other plans but to make you serve him once more?"

Onslaught's optics flashed with apprehension even as relief washed over him again. Relief that they were going to live; they'd antagonized Megatron yet again and survived the experience. Apprehension because Megatron would surely exact a heavy price for their continued survival.

"What have you heard?" Onslaught asked, fighting to keep the growing sense of panic out of his voice. "What are his plans?"

"Megatron doesn't feel the need to discuss his plans with me," Scrapper said. "And even if he did, I wouldn't be telling you, traitor. Now be quiet, I won't have you botching my work when I'm this close to being done with you all."

With an effort, Onslaught stifled himself, forcing himself to lay back quietly and listen to the Constructicons go about their work.

**X X X**

Onslaught sat on a stool in the recovery area, watching his teammates. They'd been brought here separately as their repairs had been completed. Now, they were all together again, awaiting Megatron's summons.

Onslaught had to admit, they did look good -- better than they had been even at their prime. New armor, fresh parts, they'd even been given their weapons back. Of course, no one had been stupid enough to give them their _ammo_ back, but just being able to feel the weight of his cannons again was comforting enough for Onslaught.

Brawl paced the room, grumbling loudly in what passed for his indoor voice. His feet clanged on the floor as he stomped around, adding to his usual din.

Vortex and Swindle were huddled together, chattering about something and snickering at some shared joke. Vortex's rotor blades spun lazily as he giggled at a gesture Swindle made toward Blast Off.

Blast Off stood alone, aloof and as the likely object of Swindle and Vortex's amusement, judging by the way he made a point of ignoring their antics.

Onslaught's optics shone briefly with amusement, not only at Blast Off's discomfort or Swindle and Vortex's teasing, but also at the fact that he knew his amusement at their behavior wouldn't last long. Soon enough, his brothers would be annoying him individually and in all combinations.

"You know, the longer you ignore them, the worse they'll get," Onslaught said, moving to stand near Blast Off.

"Indeed," Blast Off said, shifting his position a fraction of a step away from Onslaught. "Still, I see no reason to give in and say something to them. They'd think they'd won and then there'd be no living with them."

Onslaught chuckled. "I never thought I'd hear you admit that there ever _was_ any living with them."

"I'll deny it if you repeat it," Blast Off said with an imperceptible, uncomfortable shrug. "But…"

"I know," Onslaught said, leaning against the wall himself, slouching as much as training and personality would allow him to. All in all, from the outside they must have looked like a group of bored, if anxious, mechs awaiting an audience with their Emperor.

Which they were -- but since they were also Combaticons, they were naturally still working every possible angle, searching for some advantage.

Onslaught continued speaking with Blast Off. "How goes it?" he asked, turning so that he was looking at Blast Off but still able to keep an optic on the rest of the room. "Your damage seems to have been the most extensive. Were they able to find and repair all your circuits?"

"Yes," Blast Off said. "Persuading Scavenger to stop looking is what delayed my arrival here."

Onslaught nodded as he overheard Swindle. "Yeah, I did too!" he was saying to Vortex, voice rising slightly as he mixed sincerity and annoyance. "C'mon, 'Tex, you know good and well that I found that place first! Otherwise, how'd you even know about it, huh?"

As Swindle spoke, a small round object fell to the ground between him and Vortex.

"Yeah, sure you did," Vortex said, accidentally kicking the object into Brawl's path where the bigger mech stomped it to dust -- just like he'd done with the other four cerebro shells. Onslaught made no sign that he'd noticed, but he felt a swelling of pride that there were Seeker patrols who were less well choreographed than his team.

_Now, all we need to do is wait and bide our time until Megatron shifts his attention elsewhere again._

What they would do then, Onslaught didn't know. Much as it galled him, running was clearly the best option. Standing and fighting might have soothed his wounded pride, but as Swindle was fond of saying, "He who runs, lives."

Still, for the time being, this would do. They were still alive, they were still together and one day they would finally be free.

He was basking in the warmth of that thought when the Seekers came to escort them to the Throne Room.

**X X X **

Megatron smiled with satisfaction as the Combaticons were led into his throne room. They were unsteady on their feet, moving stiffly as they adjusted to their newly upgraded bodies.

They stood before him, the Seekers arrayed behind them so that each one was covered by multiple angles of fire. To Megatron's pleasure, it didn't seem likely that they would be needed. The Combaticons stood before him, postures bowed, defeated. They kept their optics respectfully aimed at the ground; even Onslaught couldn't meet his gaze. Megatron's smile widened.

"I have spared you and your comrades for a purpose, Onslaught," Megatron said. "Despite your repeated treachery, I have seen fit to show you mercy once more." He paused. "What have you to say to my generosity?"

Onslaught stepped forward, looking up. "We thank you for your mercy, oh mighty Megatron," he said, and Megatron could see that even _now_, after all that had happened, the Combaticon leader was _still_ trying to find a way to negotiate with him. The sheer stubborn gall of it was almost enough to spoil his enjoyment of the moment. Almost. "We understand that we live at your sufferance and we await the opportunity to prove ourselves worthy of your clemency."

Megatron nodded. "And what does your sixth member say?" he asked. "After all, he is more than the sum of your parts and has as much right to be heard as any Decepticon. Combaticons, show me Bruticus!"

The Combaticons leapt at the command, bodies twisting and turning as their bodies sequenced from robot to vehicle to gestalt component. Before him, Bruticus rose, filling the throne room.

"Bruticus!" Megatron called. "Who do you serve?"

**X X X**

Combining was easier this time, their updated gestalt components fitting together so much more neatly than before. They meshed, feeling Bruticus's mind form around them, absorbing them into his consciousness.

It was a feeling almost completely opposite of having been imprisoned. There, they'd been alone, unaware of each other or even themselves in any real way. Their only respites had come from periodic experimentation by Decepticon scientists, but even those moments had been few and far between.

The gestalt on the other hand, was pure sensation, the ultimate form of togetherness. After so long apart, it was pure bliss to know that they were not alone anymore. Their five personalities blended into a unified whole, a being at once like and unlike them. Onslaught's efficiency, Blast Off's coolness under fire, Swindle and Vortex's ruthlessness and Brawl's single-mindedness all combined and wrapped around by their ferocity and rage formed into a new brother, younger by millennia, but at the same time as old as the rest of them. It was like coming home again.

As the last of the neural pathways locked into place, shunting the final personality quirks and skill sets needed to bring Bruticus to full awareness, Bombshell's cerebro-shells struck, hitting all five components at once. Simultaneously, thousands of micro-wires struck and wrapped themselves around neural circuitry in both the individuals' personality component and also the gestalt's components. The wires dug in, camouflaging themselves as innocent, non-essential wiring on thousands of circuit boards and began emitting rapid-fire reprogramming instructions. The viral program was brutal in its simplicity: it left skills and abilities untouched and even ignored the majority of the Combaticons' personality quirks in favor of insinuating one simple core message into all six team members: _Obey, submit to Megatron's will, cease your struggles and surrender yourselves to the sweet freedom that is obedience to Megatron and Megatron alone._

It happened so quickly, there could be no resistance. Not even Swindle put up so much as a token struggle as the cerebro-shell's viral core sent one last command code and self-destructed, dissolving into harmless dust. The only outward sign of the Combaticons' final defeat was a brief flicker across Bruticus's optics.

Bruticus stared down at Megatron, seeing a triumphant smile cross his face, but not understanding what it meant. He waited patiently for his new commander to give him orders, any orders. Instead, he was asked a question.

**X X X**

"Bruticus!" Megatron called. "Who do you serve?"

"Bruticus serves only Megatron!" the gestalt bellowed as he dropped to one knee before Megatron. "Bruticus destroy Megatron's enemies! Bruticus fights for Megatron and Megatron alone!"

"Excellent," Megatron said. "You are a welcome addition to my empire. Let the Autobots tremble before our might!"


End file.
